


Pieces of the Puzzle

by AngelQueen



Category: NCIS
Genre: Episode Related, Episode Tag, Missing Scene, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-24 14:39:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 13,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17706161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelQueen/pseuds/AngelQueen
Summary: A place for my NCIS episode tags and missing scenes. Reposted and edited from FF.net. Mostly Abby/Gibbs-centric, but not all.





	1. Silver War (3x04)

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter is a standalone, and is labeled by the episode it corresponds to.

“I thought we agreed you’d ask if you had any other changes you wanted to make to my team.”

Jenny glanced up from the file in her hand as Gibbs took the empty seat next to her. Even in the dim light of MTAC, she could see the exasperation on his face. “What do you mean?” she asked quietly, careful not to let her voice carry to the technicians who were busy with their work across the room. She gave him a teasing smile. “As far as I know there aren’t any other Mossad officers that are joining NCIS and –”

“My forensic scientist is down in her lab, completely distracted from her work because you set one of your paper-pushers on her.”

Jenny raised an eyebrow. “Miss Sciuto –”

“Abby,” he cut in.

She glared at him and started again. “ _Miss Sciuto_ was given notice about the NCIS dress code. There is a time and place for displaying her own personal style and tastes, Jethro. The work place isn’t one of them.”

Gibbs didn’t respond at first, his eyes on the large screen that dominated the room. He watched the numbers and other information fly across it for several moments before turning to her. “Did Morrow give you any information at all about us before he took off for his cushy corner office at Homeland Security?”

Jenny sighed and ignored the barb about her predecessor, replying, “Yes Jethro, he left accounts of your success rates, your team’s methods –”

Gibbs cut her off. “Then you know that Abby is instrumental to those successes. She provides us with the most vital information needed in an investigation, information needed to match a suspect with the crime.”

She blinked. Gibbs wasn’t one for talking, and that was a veritable speech for him. “Your point?”

“My point is that it matters more that she gets the job done, and that she wears all black and spiked collars and bracelets is neither here nor there.” He leaned in closer, almost whispering in her ear. “Leave Abby alone, Jen. She gets the job done. That’s all you need to worry about.”

Jenny stared at him. She had always known that Gibbs would do anything for his team, up to and including taking a bullet for any of them. She recalled the scars on his body well enough to remember that he had done so on more than one occasion. This, though? Leroy Jethro Gibbs intervening on behalf of a forensic scientist concerning her wardrobe choices, and with a straight face? It was ridiculous!

“Why are you making such an issue of this, Jethro?”

His blue eyes were perfectly blank, inscrutable. “She’s part of my team,” he said simply. He then got up and started toward the door, moving away as swiftly as he had come. 

“I didn’t know you went to bat for scientists,” Jenny called after him. “Normally, you can’t stand them.”

He didn’t respond, but she did see him pull out his cell phone and click one of his speed-dial numbers. “Abbs,” he said a moment later, just as he walked out of MTAC, “it’s taken care of. Lose the monkey suit.”

The door shut behind him, leaving Jenny alone aside from the still-busy technicians. After a few seconds, she turned around and faced the screen again. She knew she had changed since they had gone their separate ways after Paris. She had learned to play her strengths, to see beyond the all-consuming fieldwork that Jethro thrived on. 

It was only now that Jenny actually considered that maybe Jethro had changed too in that time. 

Becoming the NCIS Director had been an excellent career move for her, but now Jenny was beginning to think that the people that made up the agency were a bit more complicated than she had initially anticipated.


	2. Hiatus, Part 2 (3x24)

She watches him say goodbye. He gives Tony his badge, tells him that the team is his now. He tells McGee that he’s a good agent, and to never believe otherwise. She hears all of this, but can’t comprehend it.

Gibbs turns his gaze on her and Abby flinches inwardly. She’s never seen emotions like those in his eyes – weariness, defeat. It’s not supposed to be like that. He’s Gibbs, El Jefe, The Hero, the one who marches in where angels fear to tread. He’s always been the rock in the stormy sea that is her life, the one person she can hold onto to regain her bearings.

Abby wants to rant, to rave and curse the people who pulverized her rock, who have done this to him. Despite how she feels, all that comes out of her mouth is a single word, full of devastation. 

“Gibbs…”

His fingers presses gently against her lips, preventing her from saying anything else. He leans in and brushes his lips over her cheek, a kind, tender gesture that makes her eyes water even more than they already are. 

For a moment that is far too brief, Gibbs holds her gaze, like he is trying to tell her something. Abby doesn’t even have the strength to raise her hands to speak in ASL, their preferred method of communication when the spoken word is too difficult for one or even both of them. As a result, the message in his eyes is left hanging in the air between them as he finally looks away. He speaks to Ziva, and then starts toward the door, Ducky walking alongside him. 

Abby watches him pause just before he leaves, hears his final words to them – “Semper Fi” – but can do nothing but stare.

Then he’s gone. 

The past several days have been hell. What began with that phone call from McGee, continued with the case from hell, kept going with Gibbs’ coma, and rounded out with his amnesia, the knowledge that he didn’t know her, didn’t know any of them. Then, just a half-hour ago, Abby had gotten a semi-coherent phone call from Ziva, who managed to tell her that Gibbs remembered again and that they were on their way to the Navy Yard. Abby had never run so fast out of her lab and up to the squad room before.

“Abby?”

For a few minutes, her world had righted itself again. Gibbs had come into the squad room and was quickly surrounded by friends, but Abby had barely seen them, had only focused on getting to him as quickly as possible. She’d lunged, and hit her mark perfectly. He had staggered back a few steps, but still managed to catch her in his arms. His words of recognition had been better than all the music in the world – he remembered her.

“Abby?”

Now, though, everything was worse than it had been before. Gibbs had still been there before. Fuzzy in the head, but still there. Not now, though. Now he’s gone, or will be soon enough. Abby has no doubt that he’ll be out of D.C. within the next six hours, if not less.

“Abby!”

Her world is falling apart. She –

Hands grip her shoulders tightly and Abby looks up into Tony’s frantic face. His words are like gunshots.

“Abby! Breathe!”

She does, and that’s when the pain explodes inside her. She’s completely blinded by tears now, and every breath is agony in her chest. “T-Tony…” she chokes, and then starts heaving with every breath, trying in vain to suck in enough air for her burning lungs.

He pulls her close then, wrapping her in a hug, and Abby can do nothing but cling to him. Tony’s hugs aren’t like Gibbs’. Gibbs’ hugs make her feel safe, loved, cherished, like she’s the only woman in the world, for however brief a moment. Tony’s hug is a comfort, one last piece of wood to grab onto before she goes under the waves for good.

“Oh God…” she shudders. “He’s gone… Tony…” She buries her face in his shoulder, her tears wetting his jacket. “W-What just happened?” She knows, of course, but it’s too much to comprehend. The foundation of her world has just fallen away, and she doesn't know what to do.

Tony doesn't answer her, though, just keeps hugging her, almost rocking her. Abby doesn’t say anything else, just cries into his shoulder. She feels hands on her own shoulders – McGee, Ziva – and she tries to hold onto their presence. They’re all she has left now.

The world as they’ve known it just ended, and now they have to all pick up the pieces.


	3. Outlaws and In-Laws (7x06)

Gibbs had returned to the Navy Yard after seeing Mike and his family – all three of them – off at the airport. It had taken a while to get Amira to let him out of her vice-like hug, and then only with the solemn promise that he come visit in the near future. He'd stood in the terminal watching the plane fly off and almost wished he'd gone with them. To be a fly on the wall while Shada and Mike attempted to get along for Leyla and Amira’s sake would definitely be something.

Of course, it could ultimately be like his ancestors in the story he'd told Leon. They'd focus on the family and just ignore each other. It had seemed to work for his great-great-great-grandfathers. 

The team had still been at their desks when he'd arrived, all of them sneaking glances at him with eyes full of questions, but Gibbs ignored the looks with practiced ease. He set to work writing up the case report, intending to send it on to Leon before he left for the night. When he did finish it, it was dark outside and the rest of the team had already clocked out. After he emailed it off to Leon, Gibbs picked up his keys, badge, and gun to take his leave for the night. As he did so, however, it came to him that Abby hadn't come through the squad room, something she almost always did before she went home. Ducky and Palmer had both come up earlier, the former intending to have dinner with Doctor Hampton and the latter... doing whatever it was he did when he left here at the end of the day, but Abby had never appeared. Gibbs would have definitely noticed her. He always did.

Frowning, he changed his course from the stairs to the elevator. He had an idea of where she might be. She'd been down in the evidence garage more during the case than she had been in her lab, her eyes and attention glued to the _Kelly_. Within moments, the doors opened and he stepped out. The boat was still in pieces, courtesy of his orders and Abby's chainsaw, but Gibbs noticed the differences from what it had looked like just that morning. Some of the pieces had been pushed together, like a jigsaw puzzle. He could even see the faint sheen of sealant on some of those pieces.

Someone had been making an attempt to put the boat back together again.

Someone who was currently sitting at the evidence table, her head cushioned by her arms and her eyes closed in sleep.

Moving closer to her huddled form, Gibbs stared at Abby. She had to be uncomfortable in her current position, and from the furrow lines deeply cut into her brow, her sleep wasn't a restful one. Still, the entire room was full of evidence of just how busy she'd been for the past several hours.

Taking a deep breath, he leaned down near her face and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Abby," he said quietly. "Abby, wake up."

She shifted a bit before slowly opening her eyes. Blinking the sleep away, she sat up and peered at him. "Gibbs," she muttered. A second passed as recognition set in and her eyes widened as she leapt off of her stool. "Gibbs!" she exclaimed. "Right, getting back to work! Just taking a quick breather!" Abby started to move toward the boat. "I'll fix it, I prom –"

"Abby," Gibbs interrupted, catching her by the shoulder and making her face him. "It's okay. Don't worry about it."

"But Gibbs," she protested, "you worked so hard on it! I made sure I was really organized and careful when I took it apart. It can be put back together again!"

He smiled a little sadly. "But no amount of sealant will make her sea-worthy again, Abbs. Let it go."

As emotional as Abby often was, it took quite a lot to well and truly upset her. Fixing the _Kelly_ must have meant a lot to her, because he could see her eyes grow a little glassy just before she ducked her head. "I didn't... maybe I should have cut it differently." She stared at the remains of the boat. "I should have figured the case out before it got to this," she muttered. "If –"

Gibbs cut her off. "You did what I needed you to do," he reminded her. She stared at him for a moment, and then surged forward to throw her arms around him. Used to such behavior, he accepted the hug and wrapped his arms around her as well. "Will you make another one?" she asked against his shoulder.

He honestly hadn't had time to think about it. "Maybe," he allowed, "someday." It took a lot of time to make one, and by the time he finished it, Almira might have lost interest in sailing. Even the best of kids had short attention spans. Still, it was hard to imagine not having a boat to work on. He'd think about it.

Still, whatever he decided, it wasn't important right now. "Come on," he said, "I'll drive you home."

"Okay," Abby agreed, but she made no effort to let go of him or move away.

He smiled faintly, pressed a kiss to her head, and let her keep holding on to him. She was his anchor as much as he was hers.


	4. Family (5x02)

_Tony,_  
I'm not coming back. You need to choose.  
Jeanne 

Tony had read those few lines at least a hundred times over the past few days, so much he didn't really need to read them anymore. He was pretty sure they were branded into his skin, and not just by Jeanne's curvy handwriting. Ziva, McGee, everyone really, had all been essentially been telling him the same thing. He had to choose.

Those months spent with Jeanne had been happy ones. Being loved the way she had loved him had been a rush, one Tony could admit to himself that he had gotten caught up in. It was amazing, being loved like that.

Jeanne had loved Tony DiNardo, handsome and dashing film professor, though. Tony hadn't hidden a lot of his personality when he was with her, but their relationship had been built on lies, built on Jenny's obsession with tearing down Rene Benoit. He hadn't been free to love her in the way that she deserved, and while he had genuinely cared about her, might have been able to love her completely under different circumstances, lies were still lies.

What was done couldn't be undone. Damn Lady Macbeth for being right about that at the very least.

Tony looked up from the card in his hands. The Nelsons were peering down at their newborn son, their faces alight with joy while Ducky put on his stethoscope and placed the opposite end on the baby's chest. The older man made a few cheerful noises directed at the baby to keep him calm, and after a moment his face broke into a pleased smile and he nodded, satisfied with what he heard.

Then he looked to his left. Ziva, Tony, and Gibbs all stood in the doorway of the dining room, talking to one another quietly and occasionally glancing at the Nelsons. Gibbs smiled faintly at something McGee said, and even Ziva grinned brightly. Only Abby was missing from this tableau, but he knew she was just a phone call away. Tony didn't doubt that once they were all finished here, the team would return to the Navy Yard, write up their reports, and then head out. He also figured this might be a night where the entire team might go out together to get drinks. The boss would go down to Autopsy, tell Ducky to get moving, and they'd stop at Abby's lab. They'd arrive back in the squad room, and then the six of them would leave together.

They'd pick a bar – not one of Abby's clubs, no matter how much she pouted in Gibbs' direction – knock back a few and talk about anything other than work. After a while and several rounds, they'd all make arrangements to get home. Gibbs would probably be one of the few still capable of driving, and would insist on taking Abby home, ostensibly since her apartment wasn't that far from his house, and no one was ever brave enough to suggest it might be any other reason. Ducky, ever the gentleman, would offer Ziva a lift and she would either accept or decline depending on how much she had had to drink herself. Tony and McGee might share a cab, squabbling and poking at one another so much that the cabbie would probably consider charging them double for just having to listen to them.

Then the next day, they'd all return to work and get on with their jobs, albeit some of them with headaches from the night before.

That was truth. That was family.

Tony looked down at the card again.

_You need to choose._

Slowly, he shut the card. Placing it with its envelope, he carefully leaned toward the fireplace and laid it in the flames. He watched it begin to blacken around the edges, the paper being consumed, and then he stood up. Turning his back, Tony moved toward this friends. As he tried to wring out his soaked tie, he glared at McGee, who smirked in reponse. Even Ziva and Gibbs were looking at him, clearly amused by his state. It was hard not to stick his tongue out at them, but doing so would probably earn him a head slap.

He didn't look back at the fireplace again.

_Goodbye, Jeanne._


	5. Faith (7x10)

For as long as she could remember, Abby had loved Christmas. The holidays in the Sciuto household had hardly been conventional ones, not with two deaf parents, but they had never lacked for warmth and happiness. She remembered being a little girl listening as hard as she could for Santa's arrival, but never managing to catch him. Usually by about five in the morning, Abby wouldn't be able to stand the waiting anymore and would rush down to the stairs of their Victorian house and into the front parlor. Every year, she always found a pile of presents. Her excited squeals would promptly wake her brother, and he would come flying downstairs as well. They'd then curl up together on the sofa and wait, given the rule that their parents had insisted on – no waking them up on Christmas morning before six-thirty. More often than not, the two of them would fall asleep on the sofa, only to be woken by their smiling parents.

Of course, as wonderful as those Christmases were, one vital ingredient had always been missing – snow. Louisiana was hardly known for its snowfall in the winter time, after all. As the years passed and Abby moved on to different places, she gained more experience with snow. This year, though, it was special. She was actually getting a white Christmas. Peering out her windshield as she drove along the near-deserted streets of Washington D.C., Abby could hardly contain her excitement.

It was early, so early that she could see that most families weren't even awake yet. When she pulled up to her destination, she was even more pleased to see that the house was dark. 

Abby looked around. The houses surrounding Gibbs' were all decked out in Christmas decorations – some even had left their lights on overnight, which was hardly the safest thing to do, but hey it was Christmas and Santa needed _some_ light to guide his sleigh by – which made his house look dour and depressing and... sad, really. She bit her lip. She knew very well that the holidays weren’t Gibbs' favorite time of year, and hadn't been so for nearly two decades. She could hardly blame him. He rarely talked about Kelly, but the comment he'd once made about standing in line for six hours on Christmas Eve just to get her a popular teddy bear spoke volumes. 

After a few seconds, Abby shook her head. Enough with the maudlin thoughts, she was on a mission, one she intended to finish before she headed off to Christmas Mass. Turning her car off, she got out and closed the door as quietly as she could. Opening up the back door, she pulled out three large bags, two filled with gifts and the third with an assortment of cookie tins. This entire mission had been in the works since Thanksgiving, though she really didn't know _how_ she had managed to keep Gibbs out of the loop. Or if she had. For all she knew, he knew every detail of her plan and was lying in wait for her to sneak into the house.

This year, Abby had been determined to bring a little bit of holiday cheer to her favorite boss and best friend. She had managed to talk to the team and have them all pool their plans on what to get Gibbs for Christmas and then to deliver them to him on Christmas Day. The plan had been modified more recently when Gibbs had mentioned to her that his father was coming to D.C. to spend the holiday with him, and everyone had been in something of a tizzy as they scrambled to get the senior Gibbs something as well. Still, they had managed it, even Tony with his penchant for ordering gifts through catalogs at the last minute. The only catch was that Abby was going to deliver all of the presents to Gibbs' house herself.

* * *

_"What?" Abby asked incredulously. "By myself?"_

_Tony, Ziva, and McGee all cast significant glances at one another. McGee spoke first, "I'd help, Abby, but I'm making the drive to my sister's. And with me still trying to get that connection with the destroyer out in the Indian Ocean, there's just not enough time."_

_"And let's be honest," Tony added, "if the boss catches_ you _in the act, he's not going to smack you on the head or yell at you."_

_Ziva smiled faintly. "Peek of being the favorite, yes?"_

_Abby blinked, and then laughed. "Perk, actually."_

_"That too."_

* * *

The sidewalk leading up to the front porch had been shoveled and sprinkled with salt, so Abby didn't have to worry about slipping on any ice, thank goodness. Stepping up to the door, she transferred one of the bags to her other hand, leaving all three of them there while she carefully turned the knob. It was unlocked, as always. Slipping into the house, she wiped her feet on the rug before closing the door behind her as quietly as she could. Peering through the entrance to the living room, Abby's jaw dropped in surprise. She knew Gibbs didn't decorate his house for Christmas, but standing right there near the fireplace was a small tree, completely decked out in lights and ornaments. 

After several seconds of gawking, her eyes swept the rest of the room and immediately landed on the couch. Lying there, one arm slung over his eyes and a sheet draped over him, was Gibbs.

_Aw, crap,_ Abby thought. Her entire plan just became harder. It was next to _impossible_ to sneak up on a Marine, let alone Gibbs and his super-secret powers of Knowing Everything. Still, as she watched him, she was pretty sure he was fast asleep, something she had rarely seen in all her years of knowing him. Biting her lip, Abby crept further into the room, making a beeline for the tree. As she began to unpack the gifts and slide them under the tree, she glanced up toward the ceiling. If Gibbs was down here on the couch, then that meant that Jackson was probably upstairs. She knew Gibbs didn’t sleep upstairs himself, but he kept a room sorted and ready for guests, something she herself had made use of when she’d stayed with him over the years. 

Once the last gift had been laid out – Ducky's beautifully wrapped gift for Jackson – Abby slowly pushed herself up off the hardwood floor and looked toward the couch. Gibbs hadn't moved during the entire time, and his breathing was still smooth and easy. _He must really be exhausted,_ she thought. Tiptoeing out of the living room, Abby moved toward the kitchen with the last bag in hand. Setting it on the counter, she began to unload the last of her gifts. She had been baking every spare moment she'd had for nearly a week, and had already given out her cookies to everyone else. The ones she'd had in her lab during the latest case had only been a brief sampling. They'd been some of the more silly cookies she'd made, but she was pretty sure that everyone would like what they'd been given. Director Vance had been the first to get the cookies, for instance, because Abby had made sure to drop the tin off at his office while he was out of the building. Even with him being at NCIS for over a year now, Abby still didn't quite know what to make of the man. He reminded her of Gibbs sometimes, in the way that he kept secrets behind his eyes, but although he seemed to have a nice enough sense of humor, he just wasn't quite like Gibbs.

Then again, there was _no one_ like Gibbs, so she didn't really know why she expected Director Vance to really be like him. None of the Directors before Vance had been like Gibbs. Morrow certainly hadn't, and Jenny, well, Jenny had been a bundle of contradictions herself.

Shrugging to herself, Abby finished stacking the tins on the counter. Taking out the card she had filled out before even leaving her apartment, she opened it to read what she had written one more time.

_Merry Christmas, oh wise men of the Gibbs persuasion! May your holidays be merry, bright, and without injuries from wood-working hand tools!_  
Sincerely,  
Santa's Friendly Forensic Helper 

Grinning, Abby put the card down in front of the tins, where Gibbs or his father would be sure to see it. Taking up the now-empty bags, she turned to leave. Now came the hard part – getting past the living room and out the door without waking Gibbs. She'd done okay so far, but Abby just _knew_ she was pushing her Christmas luck. Doing her very best to be quiet – and thanking God she hadn't worn her big clomping boots for once – she slipped across the foyer toward the door. She paused briefly to look into the living room and saw that Gibbs still looked like he was fast asleep. He actually looked kind of cute, she thought to herself, trying not to giggle.

Once she was out the door and it was shut behind her, Abby picked up the pace, going down the sidewalk and across the street where she had parked her car. However, just as she was about to open the car door, Abby felt the hair on her neck prickle. She was being watched. Someone behind her was watching her. Biting her lip, Abby opened the car door, but just before she slid inside, she looked back at the house she had just exited.

Gibbs stood at the door, peering out at her. Even from her spot across the street, Abby could see his raised eyebrow.

_Aw, busted! And I'd almost made it too!_ Still, Abby mustered her brightest smile, and waved at him cheerfully. Gibbs shifted his stance a little, but his eyebrow remained up.

Now she was beginning to feel like she was back in her lab, with Gibbs standing in front of her and waiting impatiently for her to get to the point of whatever she was trying to explain to him. Giggling to herself, Abby raised her hands and signed in big, elaborate gestures, just to be sure that he could understand what she was saying.

_Merry Christmas. Off to Christmas Mass with the sisters. See you tomorrow._

A moment passed, and then Gibbs nodded to her and raised his hands to respond. _Merry Christmas, Abby. Thank you._

Smiling at him again, Abby got into her car and started it. She noticed that he didn't move from the door as she pulled away, as though he was still watching her. As she began to take a route out of the neighborhood and toward the church, Abby began to remember what she'd planned to do next, while at Mass. 

It had become a tradition for her long ago to light candles for those she had lost. It had started with her parents and Uncle Teddy, but over the years, the numbers had increased. Kate, Chris Pacci, Paula Cassidy, and many of the other NCIS agents that had died in the line of duty all had a candle lit for them. More recently, Jenny had also been added to the list too, but there were two others who Abby had been lighting candles for even before Paula and Jenny had died. Every year since she had learned about them, Abby had made sure to light candles for Shannon and Kelly Gibbs. She didn't know if the Gibbs' had kept to any particular faith, but she knew it couldn't hurt. She could only know the two of them through Gibbs' memories, of which he so rarely spoke of, but at the very least, Abby could honor them in her own way.

It was Christmas, after all. It wasn't about recognition. It was about giving what you could, even for people you had never had the chance to meet.


	6. Twilight (2x23)

_The light is bright, white hot against the rooftop. The noise hurts her ears._

_Black, thin, deadly. Hiding in the shadows, waiting, patiently hunting its prey._

_Laughter. Tony’s grin is infectious._

_The darkness strikes. Blood splashes across Tony’s face. He flinches, but does not cry out._

_Laughter is replaced by sorrow, terrible, terrible pain._

“… he had blood all over his face. I woke up crying, Kate. I never cry. Never ever ever.”

Kate reassured her, smiling brightly before she left the lab. Abby watched her go. She couldn’t help but shiver, and prayed that Kate was right.

Later, Tony and Gibbs returned to NCIS with Kate in a body bag. Abby didn’t see them until later, but she looked at the security camera footage. She saw the blood spatter on Tony’s face, the glazed expression in his eyes.

Abby never talked about her dreams with anyone again.


	7. Chained (2x10)

Undercover operations make me nervous. Tony may be the movie buff, but I’ve seen all of the crime drama shows where someone goes undercover, and it rarely ends well. Even if it’s a main character, they usually get caught by the bad guys and whacked around before the cavalry can charge in to save the day. 

This isn’t a television show, and that just makes it worse. Tony’s out in the wilderness with a criminal cuffed to him, a guy who from all accounts is a known wimp and will be of no help to Tony if he lands himself into trouble. Probably the only thing keeping me from panicking right now is the fact that Gibbs and Kate are sticking as close as they possibly can to him. They’ll look after him. 

I’m still nervous, though, but I do a pretty good job of hiding it. As I sip on the last of my Caf-Pow!, the phone rings. I toss the empty cup into the trash and answer it. “Hello?”

_“You got him?”_ Gibbs demands without any of the usual phone etiquette that normal people use. Then again, no one would ever call Gibbs normal.

Grinning, I say, “Are you honestly asking me that?” I don’t even have to look back at the monitor screen to know that Tony’s signal is loud and clear.

_“No, Abbs. I called to flirt.”_

“You think I’d send our helpless boy out there without knowing exactly where he is?”

The next several minutes cover the usual – Gibbs’ ineptitude with modern technology (thank God Kate’s with him), McGee’s stuttering in the face of Gibbs’ irritation (really, you’d think he’d be used to it by now), and continuing on with the case – but afterward, I go back to Gibbs’ words.

_I called to flirt._

He was being sarcastic. I know, and I didn’t miss a beat when I a beat when I answered him, but still, that didn’t stop my heart from skipping a beat and a tiny voice inside my head from squeaking, _‘Really?’_ Thank God I didn’t actually _say_ it, but really, the scenarios that run through my head with Gibbs actually flirting with me… well, they’re hardly confined to a PG-13 rating.

I eventually shrug off the entire thing and focus on the case, especially when Tony’s tracker cuts out. Gibbs’ words had given me a short break from the worrying, but now it’s back in full force.

But I know that Gibbs’ comment will come back to me, when I’m alone at night, and I’ll start to remember those scenarios…


	8. Leap of Faith (5x05)

Talking to Rachel Arnett about her brother had been difficult, but Gibbs had managed it. It turned out the seventeen-year-old did most of the talking, and little of it had to do with her brother’s suicide-turned-murder. She had talked about their childhood, what he had been like as a brother to a sister several years his junior. She spoke of him with pride, stating that if she ever had children of her own, they would always know that their uncle had been a patriot and a hero.

When the call finally ended, Gibbs hadn’t stuck around the office much longer after that. The team had already gone their separate ways for the night, so he had gone home. He hadn’t bothered to pick up any take-out, as he was in no mind to stomach food. His ultimate destination was the basement, and that was where he ended up after changing his clothes.

Sanding down the boat was as soothing as ever. It even calmed his thought enough that he didn’t have to resort to the bourbon stashed in the corner. However, he wasn’t down there more than twenty minutes when he heard the door upstairs open. Footsteps crossed the floor, loud, clomping steps that Gibbs quickly recognized, and arrived at the top of the stairs.

“Did you really think I was going to leave?” Abby’s voice was quiet, questioning, even a little hurt.

Gibbs looked up from the boat to stare at her. She was still clad in the short dress she’d worn from work, and the black roses he’d bought for her were held carefully in her arms. 

He hadn’t wanted to think that Abby would leave NCIS. Gibbs didn’t want to think of what his life would be like if she wasn’t at work every day. But the rumors had been flying, and while he wasn’t one to trust scuttlebutt, he couldn’t deny the possibility. The resources that the private sector could provide for her were staggering – assistants, more funds, state-of-the-art technology, and much, much more. No government agency could compete with that, especially NCIS, which was often considered the poor cousin of the FBI, CIA, and other big letter agencies. Having such resources was the dream of most scientists. 

Also, watching Abby finally erupt at McGee, DiNozzo, and Jardine for their constant demands that she help them prove their theories hadn’t helped either. If she’d leave, it could just as easily be to get some peace and quiet. Not to mention, she’d snapped at him about being taken for granted. Gibbs admitted that he did little enough to please her, but it still stung a little to be reminded of it. 

Abby walked down the stairs and after laying the roses down on the workbench, she stepped into his personal space. “Did you really think I’d leave, Gibbs?” she repeated, her eyes glued to him. 

He didn’t look away. “It was a possibility.”

She kept up the stare for several more seconds – did she really learn that from him? – before shaking her head. “Honestly, Gibbs,” Abby muttered, and then closed the last of the distance between them. Her arms slipped around him and she buried her face in his shoulder. Reflexively, Gibbs wrapped his arms around her as well, holding her in place. 

“You’d have to fire me to get me to leave,” she said, her voice muffled against his t-shirt. “And then you’d have to get security to drag me out.”

Gibbs smirked. He didn’t doubt it.

Abby pulled back just enough that she could meet his gaze. Her eyes were still as serious as he’d ever seen them. “I’m not going anywhere, Gibbs,” she told him. “I’ll never leave willingly.” She tilted her head and gave him a meaningful look. 

He stared back at her for several moments. He got the message. Abby’s words had far more than a single meaning. She refused to leave a job she loved. She refused to leave the people she loved. Just how she loved some of them wasn’t something they openly discussed. Rule Twelve hovered in the air, ready to swoop in at a moment’s notice. The occasional double entendre was the way they communicated it to one another, and even that was rare. 

Still, he got the message. Finally, he nodded silently and kissed her cheek. Her lips curved into a smile and she sighed happily, resting her head against his shoulder again.


	9. Singled Out (4x03)

Abby yawned as she began shutting down her lab for the night. Thankfully, the team had found Lieutenant Sullivan before her abductors could kill her, so there would be no continuing the investigation as a murder investigation. Ducky had already stopped by her lab some time before to say goodnight before he went home. As far as she knew, the team was still up in the squad room, finishing up the paperwork before clocking out themselves.

Though, Abby thought as she shut off the lights in her office, she had a feeling that Tony, Ziva, and McGee were all waiting to make sure Gibbs went home before leaving. She sighed. They had all been a little jumpy since Gibbs had come back from Mexico, and that hadn't really gone away when he was reinstated. She knew that all three of them were slowly adjusting to having Gibbs back as the Head Honcho, especially Tony, who had gotten used to being El Jefe.

Abby would also admit, if only to herself, that she was a bit overly nervous herself. Four months of virtually no contact – Gibbs had only called her once, to give her Camilla's phone number in case of an emergency – had been like suffering through a drought, and though she had her thirst quenched now, she was still half-afraid that it would all turn out to be a mirage. Abby didn't think she could stand it if Gibbs walked away again.

Sighing again and forcing herself to shrug off the maudlin thoughts, Abby continued to make her rounds, shutting down her babies for the night after giving them each a pat and kiss for a job well done throughout the day. Finally, all that was left was Bertha. She stared at the computer screen, and noticed that she'd forgotten to delete the MorphPro software. Bringing it back up on her screen, she stared at the pictures on it. Gibbs and Director Shepard stared solemnly back at her, and Abby remembered that McGee, Tony, and Ziva had been playing with it hours earlier, wanting to see what a child of theirs might look like. Tony had gotten a headslap for saying that he'd date their daughter, even if Gibbs was her father, which had caused the rest of those present no end of amusement.

A nugget of an idea slipped in her mind, and Abby bit her lip. She probably shouldn't… It was just asking for trouble… With her luck, he'd walk into her lab just as she was putting in all of the perimeters…

But still, she would just love to see…

Straightening, she clicked on the various buttons, replacing Director Sheppard's picture with her own. Luckily she had pictures to use other than the one she'd used for her NCIS identification. That picture was utterly horrendous. Abby then typed in the other information for the program, such as the gender of the prospective offspring – a boy in this case – before clicking on the button to start the merging.

It only took a few seconds for their two sets of features to merge, leaving Abby with face to consider. The young man in front of her was what her and Gibbs' son could possibly look like. Staring at him, she nearly choked.

He had a head of straight black hair, firm, strong features, and a pair of blue eyes that took Abby's breath away. He was… _beautiful_ , even if she knew that he would probably object to such an adjective being applied to him. If he existed, that is, which he didn't, so it was all moot point. Still, he _was_.

The sound of the elevator bell was almost like a gunshot, and Abby jumped guiltily. Grabbing the mouse, she quickly exited the MorphPro program and set to shutting Bertha down for the night.

"Ready to go, Abbs?"

She looked over her shoulder to find Gibbs standing in the doorway, his keys and a cup of coffee in his hand. Abby smiled at him broadly, praying he wasn't using his superpowers of Knowing Everything to learn what she'd just done. "Yep," she answered, "just finishing up with Bertha here. She always puts up a fight when it's bedtime."

Gibbs laughed quietly and leaned against the doorframe, clearly intent on waiting for her. Within a few seconds, Bertha went dark and Abby was ready to go. She flipped the last of the light-switches as she moved out the door. As both she and Gibbs stepped onto the elevator, Abby actually found herself relaxing a bit when he hit the proper button and then wrapped his free arm around her waist loosely, pulling her just a little closer to him. This was familiar, this was what was important, she thought.

Now she just had to keep herself from getting ideas, and hope that it wasn't a losing battle.


	10. Jurisdiction (7x18)

The drapes on the front window are shut tight, and there are only two lights on in the house – the kitchen light and the lamp here next to the couch. Gibbs relaxes on the couch, drinking the last of his coffee. This is his last cup for the evening; anymore and he won't get a wink of sleep at all tonight.

"You should have heard Tony talking about Agent Borin," Abby says. She's lying on the rest of the couch, her legs draped over the armrest and her head resting on his thigh. He idly runs his fingers through her hair, now loose of their usual pigtails, as she speaks. "He couldn't get over how she was so much like you. I think it really freaked him out." Abby grins up at him. "The wheels of his brain hardly ever spin like that."

Gibbs snorts. "Wish they'd spin that fast when we're working on a case," he says, though there is no negativity in his tone. "We'd be solving them a heck of a lot more quickly than we do now."

Her shoulders twitch in the manner of a shrug. "At least I have my Caf-Pow! back," she says. "The jerks were lucky they went back to the original recipe before I got to them."

He raises an eyebrow. "That big of a difference?"

Abby's smile grows a little sad. "It wasn't the same at all," she says quietly.

He sighs inwardly. The real subject of their conversation has shifted, and he understands what she's alluding to. This distance they've been putting between them lately is wearing on them both. Still, Gibbs knows in his gut that Merton Bell sent M. Allison Hart here for a reason, and that the man's still a huge danger to everyone associated with him. Distance between him and Abby makes her less of a target.

"You need to be careful coming over here," he reminds her, his fingers stroking over her spider web tattoo. "You might be seen by the wrong people."

They've had this discussion before, ever since they both began to spot people tailing them. People who are far better at it than the moron who tried tailing Tony and Ziva on the jet-pack case.

"I pulled every trick that you and Ziva taught me about eluding a tail," she points out. "I don't think they've been following me the past few days. The ruse is working, for the moment." She sighs and then peers up at him, her expression taking on a guarded quality, as though she's preparing herself for words she doesn't want to hear. "Gotten anything out of the lawyer lady yet?"

M. Allison Hart is a touchy subject for Abby. Any lawyer is, really, but this mysterious woman that has thrust herself into their lives with all the subtlety of a freight train makes Abby especially wary. Given that the woman keeps throwing herself at him, he doesn't really blame her. Gibbs is getting tired of pretending that he's at the very least semi-interested. "Not much," he admits. "Nothing really useful."

Abby purses her lips in frustration. "Hm, we could always spike the next beer she has with you with sodium pentothal," she suggests, half-jokingly, half-serious. "Give me a little time and I'll have a batch whipped right up for you."

Gibbs raises and eyebrow. "Abby…"

She rolls her eyes. "Kidding!" She starts to push herself up into a sitting position, adding in a quieter voice, "Mostly."

He wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her against his chest, an automatic gesture. She sighs and relaxes against him, her lips brushing lightly over the skin of his neck. "We'll figure it out," he murmurs.

It's just the two of them right now in this silent chess moves with a scorned ex-Army colonel and his lawyer. He'd prefer that it just be him against them, but Abby's already determined to stick to him through this, even if they're officially keeping their distance from each other. He doesn't like the risks she's taking, but he's long given up trying to talk her out of it. Instead, Gibbs just keeps playing the game, moving over the board with another piece trailing and shadowing his every move.

Hopefully soon they'll win the game and get on with their lives.


	11. Hiatus, Part 2 (3x24) II

It didn't take long to pack everything he wanted to take with him, everything fitting in a single duffle bag. Just a few changes of clothing, toothbrush and a few other items. As Gibbs left his bedroom, he closed the door behind him. He refused to look back up there as he went down the steps, knowing he'd start thinking about everything that had happened on that floor of the house over the years.

_Shannon warm and soft in their bed on his last night home before his deployment –_

_Nighttime wake-up calls, courtesy of a colicky baby –_

Gibbs set his duffle bag down on the floor next to the front door. He'd already cleared out his fridge, turned off the appliances, but he had yet to go down to the basement. He stared at the door. He didn't need to cover up the boat down there, but he'd have a huge layer of dust to deal with when – _if_ – he came back if he didn’t. He sighed, but forced his feet to move across the floor to the basement door. He went down the stairs at a slow, steady pace, taking the room.

_Kelly laughed as he held her in his arms while she sanded the boat. "With the grain, baby girl," he reminded her, "with the grain –”_

_The bourbon helped him to forget, forget their smiles and laughter, forget that he hadn't been there to protect them, but it only lasted so long –_

_Ari's blood pooled faster and faster under his head, the smug look on his face replaced by one of shock –_

Gibbs shook himself, and grabbed the folded tarp off of one of the shelves. He quickly threw it over the boat skeleton, covering and hiding it away from sight. His tools he left where they were, where he'd left them just a few days – a lifetime – ago. The bottle of bourbon was also in plain sight, and Gibbs briefly considered taking it and adding it to his bag, but decided against it after a moment. Too much of a hassle to deal with at airport security. Instead, he made sure the cork was secure and put the bottle back in its correct spot on the shelf. After that, he moved quickly toward the stairs.

He had to get out of this house, out of this city. Too many memories, and he was going to go crazy if he stayed here any longer. Everywhere he looked, he saw Shannon and Kelly, saw everyone he'd ever let down, every failure –

At the top of the stairs, Gibbs stopped. Standing just inside the door, his duffle bag held in her hands, was Abby. He blinked.

_"Abby Sciuto," the unusual-looking woman introduced herself, smiling in a way that said that she knew he was taken aback by her unorthodox appearance –_

_She stood inside the doorway, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion, and she kept glancing behind her, as though she expected Mawher to jump out of his bushes and lunge at her –_

"Abby?" he blurted out. What was she doing here? He had already parted ways with the team. Were they outside? He couldn't take the idea that they might be here to beg him to stay, that she might be here to beg, because if she did, he'd probably give in. He couldn't say no to her, but in this case, if he didn't say no, he'd stay... and he'd destroy them all. Gibbs knew it. His gut knew it. He had to go.

She didn't respond, just nodded toward the door. She then opened it and stepped outside, taking his duffle bag with her. Gibbs followed her, and was relieved to see that she was alone. From the porch, he watched her walk towards her car, a rental – the hearse must have broken down again. She opened the backdoor on the passenger side and toss his bag inside before shutting the door again. Still silent, Abby moved around the car and slid into the driver's seat. She turned the keys in the ignition, starting the car. Then she sat back and waited, staring at him.

Gibbs had intended on calling a taxi to take him to the airport, but Abby clearly had something else in mind. Taking a deep breath, he turned around and shut the front door of the house, making a point to lock the door for once. Thrusting his keys in his pocket, he walked down the steps and over to Abby's car, getting in on the passenger side. Immediately after he shut the door, Abby's hand was on the gear shift, putting the car in reverse and backing out of the driveway. She still said nothing.

Silence permeated the car as she drove, something Gibbs wasn't used to. Not with Abby.

_The music – if one could call it that – nearly busted out his eardrums as he walked into Abby's lab –_

_"No no no, Chip!" Abby shouted. "Not like that, like this!" She then launched into a long-winded explanation that made Gibbs' brain gloss over, and the assistant's too, from the look on his face –_

"What are you doing, Abby?" Gibbs asked.

She still didn't reply, only shrugged and kept driving. Within a few minutes, he saw that she was taking the clearest route to the airport, which was a relief. He’d half-feared that she might try to be sneaky and take him to the Navy Yard or something. Still, she was acting so strangely. Normally he couldn't convince her to keep quiet, but now she was under a self-imposed vow of silence? Though, it didn't take him long to see that she wasn't as composed as she acted. He had only to look at her hands, which were white-knuckled as she gripped the wheel, or her eyes, which were bright with unshed tears. She was determined not to cry, and silence was the only reason she was succeeding.

The trip took about forty minutes, forty minutes of nothing to stir the air in the car, but eventually they pulled into the parking lot of the airport. Luck was with them, and they were able to snag a parking spot close to the main doors of the terminal. Gibbs got out of the car, noticing that Abby was doing the same. He pulled his duffle bag from the backseat, and started for the doors. She followed him. When they reached the door, he stopped and faced her. "Abby –" he started.

Abby leaping forward to throw her arms around his neck and bury her face in his chest cut him off. As a reflex, he dropped his bag and took a step back to absorb the impact, trying not to wince as she jarred his sore ribs. Gibbs didn't try to speak again, just wrapped his arms around her and held onto her, letting her take her time. He still had more than enough time before he had to catch his flight.

_"I'll keep you safe, Abby," he whispered against her head, pressing a kiss to it. "I promise." Abby didn't answer, just burrowed further into his embrace –_

_"Are you okay?" he demanded as his agents surrounded the hog-tied Chip, who was still shouting muffled obscenities against the duck-tape covering his mouth. She smiled tiredly at him –_

It was several minutes before Abby finally looked at him. Gibbs could feel her trembling against him, and see her red-rimmed eyes. She looked up at him, her expression as bleak as he'd ever seen it. Guilt gnawed at his gut. He'd promised to protect her, but he couldn't spare her this pain. "Abby," he started again.

She shook her head and stopped him, pressing a single finger against his lips, just as he had done the night before. "While you're out there, looking for... whatever it is you're looking for, Gibbs," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "just remember... you still have people here who love you." Abby moved her finger away, and then leaned forward to kiss his cheek. It was a light kiss, barely more than a peck, but it sent a jolt of electricity through his body.

_"I wanted to see what the monster looks like," she said quietly, slipping inside the observation room. He'd rather she not, but Gibbs knew better than to stop her. She stood beside him, staring at Boone in almost sick fascination, and her fingers brushed against his hand –_

_She tossed and turned in her sleep, muttering. Even knowing that Mawher was in custody wasn't doing much for her peace of mind. Gibbs reached out and gently pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her. Slowly, she began to calm down –_

She stepped back, pasting a brave expression on her face. Leaning down, Abby grabbed his duffle bag and held it out to him. Gibbs took it, staring at her. He was no good with words, never had been, but she already knew that. All he could really do was offer her a small, faint smile and a nod before he turned to enter the airport. As he walked away, looking for his gate number, Gibbs forced himself not to look back. If he did, he didn't think he'd be able to leave, even though he knew it was for the best.

_"... and that is why I love you." Abby's eyes sparkled with mischief and mirth, but there was no lie in them. She loved him._


	12. Child's Play (7x09)

There was much satisfaction to be had this Thanksgiving, Ducky thought, much to be thankful for. The riddle behind Lance Corporal Lazada's murder had been solved, a young girl and her mother had been rescued from a villain, and all of the slain had been brought the justice they were owed.

And yet that was only the start of it. Ducky felt blessed in the midst of this celebration, delighted to have the house full of people and laughter, much as it had been years ago, before his mother's mental decline had begun to take its toll. He watched his guests, soaking up the atmosphere.

For all that their coming together had had happened rather haphazardly, in light of many of them having other plans, it had turned out to be a wonderful party. Only Mr. Palmer was missing from their little tableau, but the young man was safely ensconced in the bosom of his family, who so rarely got to see him. Ducky did not begrudge Eunice Palmer her only son's presence.

Timothy, Ziva, and Anthony didn't appear too worse for wear at having their initial Thanksgiving plans canceled. All three of them were seated in wingback chairs, watching the football game on the one television left in the house after his mother's departure. It appeared that Tony was attempting to explain the finer points of the game to Ziva, and trying to obtain Tim's assistance at the same time. Ziva's expression was full of bewilderment and exasperation, but Ducky could also see the twinkle of amusement and fondness in her eyes as well. All were emotions that pleased him to no end. That she showed any emotion at all after what she had been through before her return to Washington was an excellent sign. She was recovering.

Ducky shifted his gaze to the last of his guests, seated on his couch, and bit back an overly pleased smile. For all that Abigail continued to proclaim Jethro's supposed magical powers, it seemed to him that she had worked her own brand of magic on him in return. Jethro seemed more peaceful now than he had in some time, his arm draped around Abby as she rested her head on his shoulder. Both their eyes were on the television, but Ducky could see Abby's eyes beginning to droop every now and then, and Jethro's eyes would flicker downward toward her head with increasing frequency. Jethro also appeared to be oblivious to the fact that his fingers were stroking the skin of Abby's arm, the gesture the very picture of gentleness.

They both appeared so relaxed, with an air of familiarity about them, that Ducky couldn't help but wonder if this was the answer to the mystery of where Jethro spent his Thanksgivings in the past. Abby was hardly likely to let him sit at home without a meal and company on this auspicious day. The way Abby had prepared Jethro's piece of pumpkin pie earlier only added further credence to Ducky's theory. She had added just enough whipped cream to the confection without having to be told, and she had done it with an ease that came only with knowledge and practice. And Jethro hadn't missed a beat when Abby had given it to him, as the empty pie plate on the end table next to them attested to.

Abby let out a quiet, contented sigh, her eyes finally drifting closed. Ducky watched as Jethro's gaze immediately returned to her. His hand left her arm, coming up instead to brush his fingers through her hair, which she had let loose when the game had started. They were both the picture of contentment and peacefulness, or as content and peaceful as either of them ever were.

Ducky leaned back in his chair and smiled to himself. Yes, it was a group that any _pater familias_ would be thankful for.


	13. Bête Noir (1x16)

The squad room was surprisingly empty when Abby decided to leave for the night. Given the insanity of the day, she'd rather thought that nearly everyone would be making a late night of it, filling out reports and scrambling to find whatever information they could on the terrorist that had invaded the building. Instead, the lights were dim and the squad room was deserted.

Shouldering her bag, Abby paused at Gibbs' desk. She'd heard that he'd refused to go to the hospital for his gunshot wound, insisting that the medics treat him onsite. Of course, Director Morrow had then ordered Gibbs to go home after he'd finished his report. What had surprised Abby was that Gibbs hadn't protested, just written up the report and stormed out of the building, growling like a bear.

She was about to go, intent on going home to change before joining friends at a club, when she spotted something lying on the floor in front of Gibbs' desk. Kneeling down, Abby saw that it was a medicine bottle, with Gibbs' name on it. She recognized the substance inside – painkillers, most likely given to him by the medics for his gunshot wound.

He'd left them. Abby sighed and shook her head. She'd never been shot before, but she knew it was painful, and Gibbs had left the painkillers here on the floor instead of taking them home with him. Pursing her lips, she grasped the bottle in her hand and stood back up.

Abby had visited Gibbs' house only a few times since she'd come to work at NCIS, but she knew the route between the Navy Yard and his place. It wasn't a long trip, only about twenty minutes, so she was able to make good time getting there. The house was dark when she pulled up in front. Getting out of her car, Abby walked up to the door and grasped the doorknob. It was unlocked.

Just as she was about to open the door further and step inside, the sound of two gunshots rang out from within the house. Abby jumped, a scream catching in her throat. Without thinking, she threw the door open and rushed into the house, shouting, "Gibbs? Gibbs!”

For a timeless moment, there was no response. Fear tightened her chest. Then there was a faint sound, coming from the basement. "Abby?"

Dropping her bag, she raced across the floor to the basement door. Peering down into the basement cautiously, Abby sighed in relief when she saw Gibbs sitting in the back corner of the basement, beside the light. His left arm was still in its sling, and his gun was held loosely in his right hand. He was alone. "Are you okay?" she asked nonetheless, making her way down the stairs.

He peered at her. "Yeah," he said after a moment.

"Then why the gunshots? What happened?" Abby demanded, looking around, half-expecting something freaky to appear out of the woodwork. Looking to her left, though, she spotted a picture that had been tacked against a beam, and stopped. "Oh," she said, her voice going quiet.

It was a picture of the terrorist, with two bullet-holes in his forehead. His grotesque smile was made even more so by the message Gibbs had just sent. This guy had best make his peace with whatever god he worshipped, because Abby knew Gibbs wouldn't stop until the bastard had been put in the ground, preferably by way of Gibbs putting two shots in the terrorist's actual forehead.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, ignoring her questions.

Forcing herself to turn away from the picture, Abby looked at Gibbs. She could see how tired he was, the tension around his eyes. His shoulder had to be aching something fierce, she realized. "You left the painkillers in the squad room," she informed him. "I don't think the medics gave them to you so you could leave them on the floor, Gibbs."

He just shook his head. "Don't need 'em," he said. Sitting his gun down, he then picked up a jar on the table next to where he was sitting. It was about a quarter full of alcohol, probably his trademark bourbon. He knocked the jar back and swallowed.

Abby sighed. "The fact that you're shooting up your house says otherwise," she pointed out. Walking closer until she was standing in front of him, she took the jar from him and sat it back down on the table. He stared at her, raising an eyebrow.

"You can't have any of them tonight," she continued. "Not with the alcohol in your system. But you still need to get some sleep." Reaching out, she took his good hand in hers and started tugging at him. "Come on, I'll help you upstairs."

He must have been really tired – or maybe just drunk – because he didn't resist. Abby led Gibbs up the stairs and out of the basement. Grabbing her bag off the floor, she rifled through it until she found the pill bottle.

"Here," she said, "I'll leave these by the coffeepot. You can take one in the morning, 'cause you're probably going to be sore as hell."

Gibbs didn't reply, just stood there watching her. Shrugging, she put the pills on the kitchen countertop. Turning back around, Abby grabbed his hand again and dragged him toward the stairs to the second floor. "C'mon, Gibbs. Bedtime."

"I'm not a kid, Abbs," he replied.

"Then don't act like one," she shot back, pulling him into his bedroom. The room was immaculate, the bed neatly made and his clothes neatly folded on a chair. _Once a Marine, always a Marine,_ she thought fondly. While still holding onto Gibbs' hand, she reached out with her other hand and tugged the duvet down.

It took a little doing, but eventually Abby was able to get Gibbs to lie down on the bed. He looked up at her as she sat down on the edge. "Going to tuck me in?" he asked.

She laughed quietly. "Have you been a good boy today?" When his face darkened, Abby immediately regretted the question. "Don't, Gibbs," she hurried to say. "Stop thinking about it. You'll get him, but not tonight." Before she could think better of it, Abby reached out and brushed her fingers across his brow. "Just get some sleep, and worry about getting the bastard tomorrow."

He gazed at her for several moments, and then finally nodded slightly. Closing his eyes, he exhaled slowly and seemed to relax. They sat there in silence for quite a while, until Abby was pretty sure he had fallen asleep. Slowly, she stood up from the bed, watching him all the while for signs of consciousness. Seeing none, Abby carefully leaned back down and brushed a kiss on his forehead.

"I'm glad you're okay, Gibbs," she whispered.

As she quietly slipped out of the house, Abby had the feeling that she'd just delayed the arrival of a storm.


	14. Light Sleeper (3x14)

“Hey Abby?”

I glanced toward McGee, my concentration still on the phone records of our two executed Marine housewives. “Yeah?”

“You know how good with kids Gibbs is, right?”

I raised an eyebrow and turned to face him fully. “Are you kidding, McGee? Gibbs is _great_ with kids!” It wasn’t hard to recall all of the cases where kids had been involved over the years. Like Sandy, the little blind girl with the amazing hearing whose dad turned out to be a dirt-bag. Gibbs always makes people feel safe, and he’d been able to do that for Sandy too, probably the only thing that kept her from completely freaking out during the case. 

McGee didn’t noticed my thinking, though. Instead, he just nodded and said, “Yeah, well, when we were at the Porters’ house, Mrs. Dawson had me hold her daughter while she looked for a bottle in her baby bag.”

I snorted. McGee was a great agent and a great guy, but Mr. Rogers he wasn’t. “What’s that got to do with Gibbs and his mad skills with kids?”

“Well, the baby was crying and everything, and he came into the kitchen, took her, and had her calmed down in just a few seconds. It was like… he knew how, just from experience,” he told me.

I tried not to melt. I’ve never been the maternal type or anything, but the idea of Gibbs holding a baby? That was really, really hot. Cave girl instincts rules sometimes. Trying not to grin too noticeably – Timmy would want to know, and he always got kind of weirded out whenever I went on about how hot Gibbs was – I replied, “Your point, McGee?”

He shrugged, looking at the computer screen. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess I’m just wondering why he never had any of his own. He’d have been a great dad.”

I inhaled, and hoped it wasn’t too loud. Doing my best to stay casual, I turned back to the records in front of us. “Yeah,” I agreed, my voice a little quieter, “he probably would have been.” I glanced at the clock on the screen, and added, “You better get upstairs, McGee. Gibbs’ll want a report soon on what we’ve found.”

Luckily, McGee didn’t seem to notice my change in mood, and he left. Once I heard the elevator doors shut behind him, I relaxed a bit. Crisis averted. Hopefully McGee wouldn’t mention his observations about Gibbs and kids to Tony, because unlike McGee, Tony was brave enough to ask Gibbs why, in the midst of his three marriages, there had never been any kids. 

Gibbs didn’t talk about having kids for good reason. Because he’d had one, a girl he never spoke of. 

He didn’t know that I knew about Shannon and Kelly, that he’d actually opened up about them to me. It had been after a really hard case and we’d gone into his basement, our hands full with bottles of alcohol. I was amazed, actually, that I remembered, but when Gibbs started mumbling about his first wife and little girl and how he’d lost them just before he finally passed out under his boat, I’d been shocked back into some semblance of sobriety.

He’d eyed me warily the next morning, probably wondering what he’d said and if I remembered any of it, but I never let on that he’d said anything out of the ordinary. He never even hinted about them, seemed content to nurse his wounds on his own. I let him, and just hoped it was the right thing to do.


	15. Spider and the Fly (8x01)

It's been months, and she's still not used to having an agent tailing her every move. It's been months since she's been able to even have a moment alone with Gibbs, not that she thinks he's noticed or anything. He spends half of the time whenever he's in her lab eyeing the windows, probably planning on making sure that Maintenance really _did_ put in bullet-resistant glass all those years ago. It would be enough to make any other woman get ideas that he's not interested anymore.

Still, Abby's pretty sure she's close to going insane. For four months, she's either been at home or at NCIS. No clubs, no trips over to Gibbs' place, nothing. It was even a pain to do simple things, like go to the groceries. More importantly, though, meant no visits from Gibbs at her apartment, which meant no chance of her dragging him into her bedroom and having her wicked way with her silver-haired fox. Or for him to drive her out of her mind with a combination of fingers, lips, and tongue.

A four-month dry spell. That's it, it's official – Abby's _certain_ she's going insane.

Until, finally, it's over. Thanks to some clever teamwork, Paloma Reynosa's dead, courtesy of Alejandro's own bullets. Alejandro's facing multiple charges here in the U.S. – espionage for bugging the office of a head of a federal agency, possibly even murder. But after he threatened her, Abby can't bring herself to care all that much. She's just glad to no longer have to worry about drug dealers trying to kill her.

So she finally gets to go home without bodyguards shadowing her every move, checking to make sure her apartment hasn't been rigged to explode, and everything else they can possibly think of. It's a relief to finally be safe again.

A part of her wants to just go out on a whirlwind tour of her favorite clubs, get rip-roaring drunk to celebrate, and collapse, but she doesn't. Instead, Abby takes a long, relaxing bath, and curls up in her bed, her body wrapped around one of her pillows. She buries her face in it. The scent of Gibbs faded from it long ago, but she still likes to think that there's still something of him in it.

Her cell goes off.

Cursing under her breath, Abby unwinds and rolls over onto her other side. She'd left her cell on the bedside table, not even bothering to put it on the charger. Glaring at it, she picks it up, not even bothering to check the caller ID.

"What?" she snaps irritably.

" _Bad time, Abbs?"_

Abby sits up so fast she nearly gets whiplash. "Gibbs!" she exclaims. "Are you okay? How're Jack and Franks? Did –"

" _We're all good,"_ he cuts her off before she can really get going. _"Mike's taking Dad back to the house."_

There's silence for a few seconds, and Abby's mind races. Gibbs had accounted for Mike and Jackson, but not himself. Just like always. Always plays it close to the vest. "Where are you?" she suddenly asks.

"Right here." The response doesn't come from her cell, but from her doorway. Abby turns around, and there he is. He's still holding his phone up to his ear, but his eyes are on her. Slowly, she drops her cell onto her bed and stands up.

The space between them feels almost awkward, in a way that they haven't felt in a long time, back when they finally allowed their relationship to evolve. It feels like they're starting all over again.

"You're okay?" she asks again, trying to break the silence.

Gibbs nods, but says nothing. His eyes finally leave hers and travel downward, only to come back up a brief moment later. He's checking her out, something he hasn't done for months. It hits Abby like a ton of bricks, and she nearly staggers under the weight of his gaze. She wants more than just looks. She _wants_ …

Abby doesn't know which of them started moving first, but they meet at the foot of her bed. Her arms go around him while his hands cup her face. Their lips slam together with little regard for finesse, but then, she doesn't really care about that at the moment. Right now she just wants _him_ again.

And again.

And if he thinks of stopping, she'll give him a piece of her mind. Again, just like she did the last time they started this.

Eventually their hands begin to roam over each other, peeling clothes off of each other's bodies. Gibbs pushes her down on the bed, covering her body with his own, and Abby nearly sobs from the skin on skin contact. She buries her face against his neck, pressing repeated kisses against his pulse.

"Missed you," she whispers.

His arms wrap around her as he rolls over to the other half of the bed, pulling her with him so that she is curled up close to his side. Abby doubts a bomb could blast them apart right now.

"Missed you too," he breathes against her hair.


	16. Kill Ari, Part 2 (3x02)

Autopsy was still brightly lit when Abby stepped through the doors. She glanced around, but didn’t see Ducky anywhere. She knew she probably shouldn’t be down here; the new Director had offered up a couple of agency cars to take them all to the airport, where the SecNav’s plane was set to take them – and Kate – to Indiana for the funeral. Still, after hearing about what had happened at Gibbs’ house, she just couldn’t resist…

The autopsy tables were all empty, so her eyes turned to the coolers in the back of the room. He was in one of them. Walking slowly across the room, Abby stopped in front of the coolers and began to open them, one by one. She had to see.

She found him when she opened the fifth door.

She’d only seen him once before, via a small camera when he had invaded this very room, taking Ducky, Kate, and Gerald hostage. His chilling smile had haunted her nightmares more than once since then. It had taken Gibbs that long to finally end his miserable life, but not before the bastard had taken Kate away from them.

“Abby?”

She turned and found that Ducky had reappeared from wherever he’d been when she had first entered autopsy. Abby tried to smile at him, but didn’t succeed. “Hey, Ducky,” she greeted softly before turning back to the dead man on the slab. 

“What are you doing down here?” he asked from behind her.

She shrugged. “I thought…” she trailed off. Swallowing past the sudden lump in her throat, Abby started again. “I thought if I saw him, it’d be easier…” She bit her lip as her eyes started to sting.

Ducky approached and stopped at her side. “Is it?”

Abby’s breathing was becoming more and more rapid as she tried to control herself, but it was no use. The tears blurred her vision and a sob escaped her throat. “Oh, God… Ducky…”

The older man’s arms enclosed around her, pulling her close to him and away from Ari’s corpse. Abby buried her face in his shoulder, her body shaking from the force of her grief. 

“Oh, my dear girl,” Ducky murmured, his hand coming up to stroke the back of her head. “There, there…”

It was several moments before Abby was coherent enough to talk. Carefully, she leaned back and looked at Ari again. “I thought I’d feel… satisfied, seeing him here,” she said shakily.

“But you don’t?”

Abby shrugged. “It doesn’t matter if he’s dead,” she whispered. “It doesn’t matter if I’m glad he’s lying there.” Tears threatened again. “None of it will bring Kate back. She… she’s gone.”

Ducky’s eyes flickered between her and the body next to them. “Yes, she is, Abby,” he finally said. “But with him dead, we can at least be sure that he will not kill or harm anyone else, like he did our dear Caitlin, and Gerald.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, handing it to her. 

Abby took it gratefully, wiping her eyes with the soft material. She waited as Ducky pushed the body back into the cooler. He turned back to her and asked, “Shall we go? I imagine Anthony, Timothy, and our new employer are waiting for us.”

Sniffling again, Abby nodded. Ducky wrapped an arm around her waist, and her arm slipped around his shoulders. They turned the lights out as they left, leaving Autopsy and its lone inhabitant in the darkness.


	17. Bury Your Dead (5x01)

The apartment is deserted aside from the two of the, but it still manages to feel crowded. There are memories in this place, and though she cannot know what they are, she can still feel them pressing down on her. Memories and heartbreak. 

“You ever lie to someone you love, Ziva?” The faint crack in Tony’s voice makes Ziva flinch inwardly. Lies have been a part of her life for so long, she can hardly recall a time when they were not.

“Yes.”

* * *

_“Promise me you will not!” Tali’s eyes are pleading as she grasps their hands tightly. “Papa’s war has already taken too much from us! Please… I could not bear to lose you too.”_

_Ziva squeezes her little sister’s hand and glances at their brother. Ari’s dark eyes are as inscrutable as ever, but also soft. Tali has long been his favorite, the one he doted upon, the one whom he could never say no to._

_Still, even now his expression is one of conflict. “Tali,” he starts._

_She cuts him off. “Please, brother! Mossad is a death trap!” She pauses, taking a deep breath, and then continues. “Promise me that you will not join Mossad. That is all I ask.”_

_Ziva bites the inside of her cheek. It is a promise she knows he cannot keep. Still, when she opens her mouth, the lie slips out as easily as breathing. “Very well.” Ari too echoes it, giving away no hint of deceit._

_Her heart twists at the relief that crosses Tali’s face. Later, Ziva confides her discomfort in Ari._

_He shrugs. “IT is not as though we are going to tell her,” he points out. “Nor will Father. He will not recruit her as he recruited us.” She tries not to hear the bitterness in his tone. Ari looks at her. “Let Tali have this, Ziva. If our promise grants her some peace, what harm is there in it?”_

_Of course, it is all for nothing in the end. Mere weeks later, one of the many explosions that rock Tel Aviv leaves nothing but a burnt corpse that used to be their beloved Tali. In the aftermath, the murderous rage Ziva feels wars with the guilt. Not even finding the architect of the attack and splashing his blood all over a room deep inside Mossad headquarters assuages it._

* * *

“They ever forgive you?” Tony asks hoarsely.

Ziva swallow hard. “They… never found out.” She refuses to cry. Not now, not ever again. The tears she has shed for Tali, for the lies that she and Ari wove around their younger sister, have been innumerable, but they will change nothing. 

“Mine found out,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. The agony in his eyes lashes out at her like knives, and she cannot stay long in the face of it. She leaves the apartment soon after, hoping that Tony will be strong enough to endure this.


End file.
